


Ignatz but he's Sexy and Bad now

by bubblesodatea



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27847486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblesodatea/pseuds/bubblesodatea
Summary: The former Golden Deer reunite after five years of war. Some of them have changed more than others.(AKA: Exactly what it says on the tin.)
Relationships: Everyone/Ignatz Victor, but it's not serious at all
Comments: 23
Kudos: 28





	Ignatz but he's Sexy and Bad now

**Author's Note:**

> *plays "Take me to Church" but poorly and on kazoo*

The air in Garreg Mach Monastery was, for the first time in years, celebratory. Hilda couldn’t believe the luck the Golden Deer class had: that everyone was alive and well enough to travel, and that her classmates had actually remembered. It would have been really embarrassing if Hilda had been the only one to show up. 

As Hilda gushed over how tall Lysithea had grown, and made fun of Claude’s new chinstrap with Leonie, the pink-haired woman couldn’t help but feel as if she were back in the Academy. Sure, they didn’t wear the same uniform anymore, but the easy bantering in their group remained the same.

Well, almost the same. 

“Raphel, where’s Ignatz? ”Hilda said, turning to the muscular man, concerned enough that she took only one indulgent second to gaze appreciatively at his new bulk. (Okay, maybe two. Or five.) 

“I was wondering the same thing. It’s not like him to forget a promise,” Lorenz said.

“I don’t know,” Raphael said, and the atmosphere in the hall was suddenly uneasy. Claude cleared his throat, as if he were preparing to say something, but no words came out of his mouth. It suddenly became difficult to make proper eye contact. No one wanted to bring up the darkest possibility of what had happened to Ignatz—

And then the monastery doors flung open. 

This was remarkable because the monastery doors were around thirty feet high and made out solid steel, and also because Flayn (who had been the last to arrive) had definitely locked the door behind her. The candles had blown out with the strong force of the doors opening. Lysithea quickly lit a small fire that danced on the tips of her fingers, illuminating the faces of her friends but not much else.

On instinct, Hilda reached for the axe slung over her shoulders. Hilda could see her friends doing the same thing; Claude notched an arrow, Marianne’s hands were brimming with magic, and Leonie readied her lance. Raphael, who had left his gauntlets down the hall, was doing his best to look threatening while brandishing only a candelabra.

“Who goes there?” Lorenz asked. 

The sky had been bright when Hilda had arrived that afternoon, but it was now pitch black outside, so dark that not even the stars shown. It was too dark to make out any figures, so the group heard, rather than saw, the person approach. Their steps were marked by the sharp clicking of metal spurs.

Fog rolled in. Hilda shivered at the cold, but the weather made sense. The mountains were chilly at night.

A single tumbleweed drifted lazily over the entryway. That, for what it was worth, made a lot less sense. 

The clicking stopped, which meant that the figure had stopped too. They snapped their fingers—

And the candles relit themselves, revealing the mysterious figure to be none other than Ignatz Victor.

Not that Hilda would have recognized him as Ignatz at first glance. There were enough physical similarities between this and the shy, dorky artist Hilda knew five years ago, but his clothes and his mannerisms would have made Hilda think he was a total stranger. Indeed, the only reason Hilda knew that this was indeed _their_ Ignatz was because “IGNATZ” was proudly tattooed on his neck in black ink.

“Hey bitches,” Ignatz said. “Miss me?”

“Oh,” Marianne said from behind Hilda. “Oh my.” 

Hilda couldn’t have put it any better herself. 

“Ignatz, you look...different,” Claude said, lowering his bow. The rest of the former Golden Deer lowered their weapons as well, but Hilda kept her axe up. Mostly because she had learned from prior experience to never trust a man wearing _that_ much leather. 

(Even though he did look _very_ good in it.) 

“Life’s different, man,” Ignatz said, speaking around the toothpick clenched between his porcelain-white teeth. “I’m the same.” 

“Uh, no, you really aren’t. The Ignatz I knew was all small and quiet and he cried when Flayn told him that creating his own Saint persona was heresy. And he wore glasses,” Hilda said.

Ignatz cocked an eyebrow. With so much sass that Hilda couldn’t help but feel jealous, Ignatz slid a hand into the pockets of his trousers and pulled out a pair of glasses. They were identical to the ones Hilda remembered him wearing, except that they were tinted black. He put them on, but positioned the frames low enough that Hilda could still see his kohl-lined eyes.

“Better?” Ignatz smirked.

Lysithea, Raphael, and Claude spoke at the same time:

“Yes, thank you.” 

“ _Woah_.” 

“My gods.” 

Hilda held a delicate hand to her chest, feeling her heart flutter despite herself. Had Ignatz always been this...alluring? “Maybe.”

Leonie marched up to Ignatz and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Is this what you’ve been doing during the war? Where are your weapons? Your battalion? Your _shirt?_ ” 

“I’m sorry,” Ignatz said, his voice breathless in a way that said he really wasn’t sorry at all. “Do you want me to go put one on?”

There was a loud chorus of no’s. Flayn, for one, looked close to tears at the prospect. 

“And as for weapons, why would I need an axe or a bow when I have the most lethal weapon of all with me at all times?” Ignatz asked, his chestnut-hued oculars twinkling in the candlelight. “My deadly good looks?”

With a flip of his hair, Ignatz locked eyes with Lorenz, who was still standing near the back, gawking at the shorter man. 

Ignatz winked at him. 

Lorenz swooned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, and collapsed into a purple heap on the floor. 

Flayn nudged Lorenz’s unmoving form with her foot. “My word, he’s unconscious.”

“Oh, excellent,” Hilda said, finally lowering her axe. “More Ignatz for me.” 

“Back off Hilda. You might be used to getting what you want, but I’ll be damned if I let you hoard this absolute delicacy of a man to yourself,” Leonie said. “I’ve gazed upon the thighs of a Saint and I’m not afraid to die.” 

Hilda’s gaze followed to where Leonie was gesturing at Ignatz’s legs. The ginger woman had a point; Ignatz was clad in hot pants short enough to make even Hilda hot under the collar, and he looked damn good in them.

“Ladies, ladies, relax,” Claude said. “If anyone deserves to spend quality time with Ignatz and his succulent calves, it’s me.” 

Lystihea cocked a hip. “Bold words from a man who looks like he shaves his beard with a butterknife. You don’t deserve _shit_. Ignatz is mine.” 

“Heh,” Ignatz said. He had taken out a single gold coin, and was now flipping it up and catching it back in his hands. “Sorry, sweetheart. No one owns me. I’m a captive of my own ennui.” 

Everyone was silent for a moment, just to let the utter coolness of that remark land. Hilda knew that the shiver that climbed up her spine had nothing to do with the still-open monastery doors. 

“This is bad,” Claude murmured to Hilda. Both nobles were watching Ignatz (who was currently brooding handsomely as Raphael gushed over the shorter man) with rapt attention.

“Is it? I feel as if Sothis has finally given me the gift I deserve for being such an angel,” Hilda said airily, twirling a pink strand of her ponytail around a perfectly manicured finger. “I’m going to eat that little bean sprout alive.” 

“No, I agree; Ignatz being an utter smokeshow now is the best thing to happen to me in five years. But this screws up my plans. I didn’t account for Ignatz becoming so hot.”

“Ah, yeah, you won’t be able to position anyone behind him now,” Hilda nodded knowingly. “How could anyone focus on battle? Goddess, I could bounce a coin off of his—”

Claude clapped his hand together. “Hilda, you’re a genius.” 

“Oh yes, I know. But why do you say that now, specifically?” 

“Because,” Claude grinned. “I know how we’re going to win this war."

* * *

“Lady Edelgard! Lady Edelgard—”

Edelgard whipped her gaze away from the window. Anyone exclaiming her name out with that much insistence was cause for concern, but when it was _Hubert_ panicking, the young Emperor knew that matters were serious. She grabbed Aymr before striding up to Hubert.

“Breathe, Hubert,” she said, quickly taking in the breathlessness in her retainer’s actions, the flush overcoming his normally pale face. “Are we under attack?” 

“No, my lady, but there is something that requires your immediate attention. Claude von Riegan has sent a diplomatic envoy here to Enbarr. I present Ignatz Victor of the Leicester Alliance,” Hubert said, dipping down into a sweeping bow. 

Edelgard tensed around the word “Alliance.” “Hubert, what has gotten into you? You know we’re far past the route of diplomacy—”

But when her eyes landed on the man who walked through the doorway, Edelgard found that any further admonitions she had had died in her throat. Her grip slackened; Aymr fell to the ground with an unceremonious clatter.

“Saints above,” Edelgard said, drinking in the sight of the delectable hunk of man-candy that was post-timeskip Ignatz Victor. “The Goddess _is_ good.” 

Hubert fell to his knees in tears, weeping benedictions for the Saints. 

**Author's Note:**

> No, I will not be taking constructive criticism, unless your constructive criticism is "This was too short, and I need more barely-cohesive descriptions of Ignatz."


End file.
